Shaken, Not Stirred
by Devan Dev
Summary: I thought Our Man Bashir was great fun, so in the same vein I've decided to take it a little further. Don't read this if you haven't seen the episode, it won't make sense. Bashir, Garak, & everyone else.


Shaken, Not Stirred 

Garak sat across the table and carefully watched the man he'd spent the last three years getting to know. The man he'd seen consume his food, as he was doing now, with undue haste any number of times; the man so easily entertained by his stories and charmingly evasive manner -- the man who shot him yesterday.

He hadn't thought he'd do it. In fact, he'd have staked his life on the good doctor's inability to inflict harm on anyone except in self defense, had staked it in the tunnels of Bashir's James Bond program, and very nearly lost it. Even now he wasn't entirely sure if Julian hadn't really meant to kill him and was just a poor shot.

It wasn't that Garak blamed him. On the contrary, Bashir's sudden emergence as a force to be reckoned with earned him a measure of respect in the Cardassian's mind, it was just that he couldn't understand where he'd misjudged the Human. It was unsettling to think he might be losing his touch. Where had he gone wrong? Had he unconsciously mistaken the soft-spoken, garrulous, slightly passive nature of his companion for weakness? Had he been lulled into thinking the doctor's strength and loyalty diluted by his inherent kindness and amiability? Perhaps so, and that lapse very nearly cost him his life.

Garak wouldn't admit to the other aspect of his misadventure that was bothering him, preferring instead to hide in his professional evaluation of how he'd underestimated the Human eating machine still inhaling his food across the table, apparently oblivious of Garak's scrutiny. Garak would never consider himself to have any claim on Bashir's loyalty. Far from it, they both knew that when push came to shove, as these Humans were fond of saying, Garak would sacrifice any mere friend rather than risk his own safety. He'd said as much on any of several occasions, it was no secret, and yet somehow there was the unspoken assumption that between the two of them there existed something more. Unwarranted perhaps, but it was a painful thing nonetheless to think that he may have overestimated his importance to the one real friend he had on this dreary station.

Not that any of the more personal aspects of this line of thought made their way into Garak's conscious mind; that sharp and suspicious instrument was still pondering the possible reasons for its failure without ever quite acknowledging the relationship his subconscious was painfully aware of. It didn't dare ask the real question burning beneath the surface: Was Julian a poor shot or not?

"Garak."

His eyes swam abruptly into focus on the soft brown gaze in front of him, fell slowly to the empty plate under them, snapped up again in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I hadn't realized you were finished."

Julian smiled good-naturedly. "I don't think you'd have realized if I'd left the table entirely." He frowned slightly. "Is something wrong? You've been decidedly distracted since we sat down."

"Oh, nothing important," the tailor breezed. "Just musing over the events of our little holosuite excursion. It was really quite fascinating watching 'Julian Bashir, Secret Agent' at work."

Julian smiled again, a tinge of red marking the tops of his cheeks. "I'm glad you think so, even if my methods aren't in the approved Obsidian Order curriculum. If you like," he continued, shifting the subject slightly, "I can get you a copy of Ian Flemming's work. He's the author of the character I was playing. It would explain the basic idea behind the way things are set up in here."

Garak inclined his head graciously. "Why, that would be most helpful of you. I must admit to a certain curiosity regarding this unusual person." What he failed to add was his curiosity about whatever this character symbolized that attracted Bashir to want to emulate him in the first place. If he simply wanted to learn about spies, why not just ask Garak himself? Ever since his somewhat traumatic experience with Enabran Tain, his origins were hardly a closely guarded secret anymore. Again, his conscious mind refused to recognize the true nature of his feelings, continuing instead to skirt around the edges.

"Did many operatives of that time period carry ammunition in their shoes?"

Julian looked deliberately thoughtful. "Well, I suppose ammunition is a bit unusual, but I have heard of carrying a communicator in your shoe. . ." He smiled at an inner joke, then continued. "What sorts of things do Cardassian agents carry secreted about their bodies?"

"Oh, I couldn't begin to tell you. The Order has an entire course devoted to the art of hidden resources." Inclining his head conspiratorially, he added, "And if you don't pass, they remove all your clothing and make you carry everything by hand for a week. It certainly teaches one the importance of even the smallest cavity."

Julian simply stared, unwilling to take what Garak just said at face value. "Uh. . . really. . . ." Did he want to pursue this?

Garak smiled enigmatically and the doctor gave up.

Rising swiftly, he buttoned his jacket and pushed in his chair. "Well, thanks for lunch Garak, but I must be off. I've a busy afternoon ahead of me."

Garak rose as well, but made no move to leave. "If you don't mind," he said, casting his gaze about him, "I think I'll stay for a while, get to know the place, the era, the sort of people inhabiting your planet four hundred years ago."

Julian shrugged. "As you like. But I must point out that the 'people' in this program are probably not very accurate reflections of Earth in the 1960s. They are, after all, only holosuite recreations of characters in a book."

"That's quite all right, Doctor. I daresay there is much I can learn here anyway."

An uncertain expression crossed Julian's face as he tried to decide exactly what Garak meant by that, but he allowed it to pass by him without serious thought. Still with a slight frown, he left the holosuite.

Garak remained standing, slowly moving his eyes around the restaurant in Hong Kong. Truth be told it looked no different from any other such establishment in his own time: people, food, a great deal of chatter. Were all people the same in all times? So it would seem. He wondered what there was about this place to interest a sophisticated man of the twenty-fourth century. Perhaps he should read the book for more insight. It was too bad he didn't know how to find Anna to discuss Bashir's role in this construction. He couldn't suppress the smile that spread over his entire face at the memory of Kira Nerys draped over Julian's bed, attired in the loveliest lingerie he had seen in quite some time, seducing him in that ludicrous accent. In fact, it was extremely difficult to keep from laughing right there in the restaurant. He wondered idly what Kira would do to the good doctor if she ever found out. Briefly he considered telling her, but dismissed the idea within moments. It would be a shame to lose him.

A movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. There, by the piano, a shadow here then gone again. Should he take a look? Was he imagining things or was it part of the program, trying to draw him into one of its scenarios? He ran through his options: Investigate what this program had to offer or go back to his shop and finish that Orion woman's dress, not that that would take long -- Orion women didn't wear much. Still, perhaps a quick look around wouldn't hurt anything. . . .

* * *

Bashir made his way back to the Infirmary and began processing the long list of physicals into the computer. He hated this type of work; it had absolutely nothing to do with doctoring and everything to do with bureaucracy. Not that an accurate medical history wasn't necessary for precise diagnosis and treatment, it was just _so_ boring having to maintain them. He sighed heavily. Maybe he would get lucky and some poor sod would break a leg or something.

He looked up hopefully at the sound of the page: "Dax to Bashir."

"Bashir here. Go ahead."

Jadzia sounded a bit tired. "Could you stop by sometime this afternoon, Julian, when you're not too busy? I need a little help with some research I'm doing for the captain."

Sure thing, Honey. "Of course. Probably in an hour or so, soon as I'm done with these records." It was hard to keep the inner amusement out of his voice; he was going to be reliving that damn program for days yet and the worst of it was that if any of his friends ever found out exactly what sort of characters they'd been playing in the holosuite, they'd kill him.

"Thanks, Julian. I knew I could count on you."

Why, Professor Bare, the entire free world depends on me. Julian turned back to his console with a smile.

* * *

Garak wandered slowly over to the open hallway behind the piano, trying to appear casual. It was fortunate the program didn't acknowledge the glaring physiological differences between the Cardassian and the rest of the restaurant's clientele; Garak stood out like a Klingon in a bed of flowers, but no one seemed to notice. He smiled vacantly at the piano player as he passed. What did Humans find attractive about that tinkling noise?

The hallway was darker than the well-lit interior of the dining room and it took a moment for even Garak's eyes to adjust. Cardassia was a slightly dimmer world than Earth and while his hearing may have been less sensitive than his human friend's, his vision was decidedly superior. Despite this physical advantage, however, there was little to see. The corridor was empty.

Sighing in frustration, partly because he'd been subconsciously gearing himself for action and partly because he _really_ didn't want to go back to work on that brown dress -- brown was one of the few colors that didn't clash with an Orian's skin tone -- he turned back to the main room, and froze. Someone was watching him. Years of intelligence training kicked in with no conscious thought at all permitting him to feign complete ignorance of his observer. Never let them know that you know. Smoothly translating his abrupt stop into a scratch behind the ear, he allowed his eyes to wander seemingly at random around the passage. There. At the far end. The deeper patch of darkness against the wall. Quickly he turned and headed back towards the light.

He never made it.

* * *

Jadzia Dax watched her friend leaving Ops, a vaguely puzzled expression on her face. Julian was behaving a bit oddly today. Every time she looked up into his studiously innocent face she was sure she could see laughter bubbling just beneath the surface, touching his eyes, the corner of his mouth, everything about him. When she commented on his general good mood he merely shrugged, said it was a nice day and why shouldn't he be happy? It was frustrating; she hated secrets. Well, those she wasn't in on. Turning to Kira she was surprised to find her already watching.

"Annoying, isn't he?"

Dax smiled. "You noticed it as well?"

"How could I not?" Kira sounded more than a little angry, in contrast to Dax's mere confusion. "There were a few moments I honestly thought he was going to laugh in my face. Just what's so damn funny today?"

Jadzia raised her shoulders helplessly, her smile broadening. Kira hated to be made fun of, particularly by someone she considered as neophyte as Julian Bashir. Their relations were never smooth even at the best of times although she had relented somewhat after the tragedy of Bareil's untimely death. She knew he felt Bareil's loss almost as keenly as she did and that gave her the beginnings of something in common with the young doctor. Jadzia figured Julian's throwing the Kai out of the Infirmary hadn't hurt either.

But there were limits to her growing tolerance and she wasn't about to allow him to use her as the butt of some inside joke.

"I'm supposed to meet him for dinner later this evening." Dax tried to sound neutral. "I'll see if I can find out what's put the sparkle in his eye."

* * *

It took Garak several minutes to become fully aware. During that entire time he remained absolutely still, making no sound at all nor otherwise giving away his growing consciousness. Yet another old habit.

Taking a quick inventory he confirmed there was nothing wrong with him, not even so much as a headache. Good. For once the holosuite safeties seemed to be working; he'd been knocked out by a simple stun beam and not a real clout to the head. For such a widely used technology, it was amazing how many people were routinely endangered by computer malfunctions or system failures. Perhaps that explained why so many holo-imaging arrays were located near medical facilities.

Slowly he slitted his eyes open, still without moving, continuing to breathe deeply and evenly. All he could see was the foot of the door in front of him and the leg of a chair beside it. He heard nothing.

Cautiously he raised his head and looked around, confirming the room's vacant status and the fact that he was sprawled on the floor with both hands and feet bound by what appeared to be simple rope. How quaint. Garak hadn't been _tied_ in simply ages. He looked around the room for something with which to cut them, fun was fun but being tied up on a hard floor for any length of time quickly lost its appeal, but except for the chair and a small table, the room was empty.

He sighed. Hopefully this program didn't have a long idle time.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?"

Julian looked up from yet more administrative drudgery and nodded to his visitor.

"Chief, yes." He rose and led O'Brien to one of the Infirmary's medical replicators. "This unit's been malfunctioning since yesterday and as I only have the one other I really need to get it online." He gave the chief an encouraging smile. "Will you have time to fix it this afternoon?"

O'Brien pulled out a tricorder and pointed it at the wall unit. It blinked and flashed at him for a moment or two, then he put it away.

"No problem. Just needs a new transtator." He moved towards the entrance. "I'll be right back."

"Thanks, Chief." Julian was about to turn back inside when he noticed O'Brien hadn't moved from the doorway and was instead staring curiously across the Promenade. His own inquisitive nature aroused, he moved to join him.

"What is it?"

O'Brien pointed unobtrusively to the couple near the entrance to Quark's and grinned. Jake and his latest love were leaning against a bulkhead, holding hands and gazing deeply into each other's eyes. They weren't saying much, just smiling their infatuation and giggling occasionally. It was quite cute, actually.

"I certainly hope the captain doesn't see them. That's another one of Quark's dabo girls. You remember what he thought about Jake's dating the last one."

O'Brien shook his head negatively. "He got used to idea, after he really got to know her. They'd probably still be together if Marta hadn't gone to the Science Academy on Regulus III. And besides, he knows his son better now."

Julian looked doubtful. "Yes, and after she left, Jake was miserable for days. If he hadn't been so vulnerable coming out of that relationship, he wouldn't have been so affected by Mrs Troi during the last Bajoran Gratitude Festival. Sisko wasn't too happy about having his son chasing Major Kira around the station." Of course, I did the same thing, he thought, strangling laughter for the umpteenth time that day.

"That wasn't his fault," O'Brien countered. "And even if it were, I still wish him all the luck. Not many teenagers can take on two dabo girls in one year." He smiled wolfishly. "Besides, I've always been a romantic at heart."

Julian nearly choked.

* * *

Garak didn't have long to wait. It was Bashir's program, after all, and the doctor wasn't an overly patient man. He heard the key in the lock and moments later a large man with a patch over one eye marched in to stand an inch from Garak's nose. The patch looked vaguely familiar yet the face was that of a total stranger.

"Where is he?"

Garak didn't even flinch. "Where is who?" The man's interrogation technique could use a little work.

Eye-Patch dropped to one knee in front of the Cardassian, grabbing the silky black hair roughly and using it to pull Garak's head back against the floor.

"Don't play coy with me. I saw you with him, I know you're one of his flunkies so answer the question. Where is he?"

Garak found the man's tone aggravating, even knowing the artificial nature of his predicament, and the idea that someone of his caliber and training would be a mere _flunky_ for Bashir was strongly provocative indeed. This hulking hired hefty was not nearly so amusing as the Falcon played by Chief O'Brien. He didn't even have that charming Irish accent. Too bad the holosuite computer had erased the crew's data from its files when they were beamed out of here.

A sudden, and extremely wicked, idea popped full-blown into Garak's mind to appear on his face as what an observer could only describe as a truly evil grin. What perfect revenge! What a marvelous way to satisfy all this inner turmoil and uncertainty and pay the good doctor back for having shot him in the first place. Now, how to pull it off. . . .

Quickly, he terminated the program and left the holosuite.

* * *

"Ah, Commander. There you are. If I might have a moment of your time. . . ."

Dax turned and waited for the Cardassian tailor to catch up with her. Interest showed plainly on her face; Garak didn't usually approach her like this.

"I wonder if you would be able to help me with a small project I'm working on. One specifically concerning our good doctor."

Dax's interest deepened. "Go on."

Garak paused for effect. If he was to secure her cooperation he had to play this just right. "Exactly how much did he tell you about the incident in the holosuite yesterday? That is, what actually transpired within his program, not the accident itself."

Jadzia looked around noncommittally. "Mmm. . . nothing in particular. Just that certain characters in the program were replaced with our physical patterns, but that our neural energy remained scattered about the station's computer network. Why?"

Garak beamed at her in that way he had, the one that made you feel as if he had you right were he wanted you. "In that case, I think there are a few things you should know. . . ."

* * *

Kira was incensed. So much so that the two people closest to her, O'Brien and Garak, stepped back hastily lest she target the nearest individual regardless of guilt.

"He did what!"

Feeling safer with the extra distance between them and ignoring Dax's reproachful look, Garak continued to fuel the fire. "Kissed you. Quite passionately, I believe. But then I have often found people to be more emotional when threatened."

"Ha! He doesn't know the meaning of the word. . . yet." O'Brien and Garak moved back a little more. "I really can't believe he took advantage of me like that. What gave him the right? Just who does he think he is?"

O'Brien turned away with a little cough that sounded suspiciously like 'James Bond?' and made an almighty effort not to snigger out loud.

Kira whirled on him. "Oh, go ahead and laugh then. It's not like he made merry with your body!"

O'Brien blinked at the mental image that provoked and fell silent.

Of all those present, only Worf seemed unfazed. Then again, playing cards was hardly something to be ashamed of and his role in general had been less embarrassing. Sort of similar to his old job back on the Enterprise actually. He arose from his seat in the corner and made his way towards the door.

"I fail to see why any of this discussion is necessary. Dr Bashir did what he thought was required to safeguard our physical patterns and therefore our lives." He paused at the door and looked back over them all. "As far as I am concerned, the issue is not worth pursuing." The door swooshed shut behind him.

"Hmph. Easy for him to say." Dax's voice was loud in the ensuing stillness. "He wasn't called 'Honey Bare.'"

Kira finally smiled. "At least you kept your clothes on."

"Only because he was handcuffed."

Both women laughed at that.

"So what are we going to do about this?" O'Brien looked at them expectantly. "And what are we going to tell 'Dr Noah'?"

Garak spoke up again. "Funny you should ask. As a matter of fact, an idea has occurred to me. And his cooperation would be quite essential, I believe." He spent the next several minutes outlining what he had in mind. When he was finished he could see the acceptance on all three faces.

Dax's smile was almost as evil as the Cardassian's had been earlier. "Computer, location of Captain Sisko."

"Captain Sisko is in his quarters."

She nodded to the others and headed for the same door Worf used. "I'll be right back. . . ."

* * *

Julian was _finally_ finishing the catch-up work he usually put off until just such an occasion as this when he spent all day doing the work of a couple of weeks. Not habitually a procrastinator, this sort of job proved the exception. He was relieved to see his luncheon companion walk through the door.

"Hello, Garak. Just a moment while I finish this up." He made the last few entries, saved the data, then exited.

"So, what did you think of Hong Kong?"

The tailor looked like he had a secret to share. "Oh, it was very interesting indeed. So much so, in fact, that I feel compelled to include you in my discoveries."

Julian looked intrigued. "Oh?" This could be entertaining.

"You haven't used this particular program since we left yesterday, have you?"

Julian shook his head. "No, I've been too busy. Why?"

Garak widened his eyes and smiled. "Then let me tell you what happened to me after you left. I was innocently walking around the dining facility we visited for lunch, observing the patrons, their companions, their occasionally bizarre food choices, when I was accosted. Quite violently, I might add."

"Yes? The program is designed for that, you know. It was probably just trying to involve you in one of its plots."

"So I assumed. That is, until the accoster introduced himself. Remarkably familiar man. I'm sure you'll remember him from our own recent adventure." Garak paused, enjoying this. "Carries a rather large hand weapon, has an eye patch, a banal sense of humor, an Irish accent. . ."

Julian looked confused. "An Irish accent. . . ?" His eyes widened and he closed his suddenly open mouth. "You mean. . . ?"

"Exactly. And not just Falcon. I believe the holosuite computer retained all their patterns."

Julian blanched. "Oh my God. We've got to erase them!" He began to panic. "If Dax or, Heaven forbid, Kira finds out I won't be able to run far or fast enough."

Bit too late for that, I think.

"Now, now, Doctor," Garak reassured him comfortingly. "No need to become alarmed. I had thought we might have a little fun with this before removing the traces of our illicit activities."

"Fun? I don't understand."

The Cardassian fairly radiated skepticism. "Oh, come now, Doctor. Are you trying to tell me the idea of a fanciful evening with 'Professor Bare' has never entered your mind? That you didn't find 'Colonel Komononof' even faintly attractive?" Garak's expression encouraged disclosure.

Julian colored. "Of course I have. They are both very beautiful women, but that doesn't give me the right to recreate them in a holosuite and do with them as I will. It's unethical."

Garak looked mildly offended. "I wasn't suggesting we march in there and ravish them, Doctor. Only that we might run one of your scenarios with characters with which we're more familiar and for whom the stakes aren't nearly so serious this time. And besides," he lied, a gleam in his eye, "I won't tell them if you don't."

Julian could feel himself giving in, knew this was _not_ a good idea, and yet was unable to save himself. In all honesty, he had imagined recreating at least Dax and the idea of being able to kiss Honey Bare again was seductive. Don't do it, fool. Are you out of your mind? Run away now, before it's too late.

"All right. When did you want to go?"

* * *

Julian Bashir, Secret Agent, and his faithful flunky Garak, were once again attired in marvelously fitting tuxes ready to enter that increasingly-frequented Hong Kong restaurant for the second time that day. I should invest in this place, Julian thought, it's got quite a future.

Garak told him earlier that Falcon only released him on condition that he bring Bashir to eat here this evening. Naturally, Agent Bashir was ready; he surveyed the room as they were led to their table.

Leaning towards Garak he asked, "See anything yet?"

"No. Maybe we should sit down and order something. I'm sure he'll turn up soon."

Julian nodded and indicated to the waiter. "Wine list, please."

The meal was uneventful, lobster tails in a fine wine sauce, the restaurant bright and cheerful, none of the room's inhabitants seeming even remotely suspicious. Julian kept looking around for O'Brien. . . that is, Falcon. Garak finally leaned across the table and told him to calm down.

"The only person certain to draw attention to himself at the moment is you, Doctor. I can't imagine this character of yours is very effective if everyone around him knows he's up to something."

Julian sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm not very comfortable with the idea of playing this game with people I know. Every time one of them shows up, I'm going to want to treat them as the people they look to be, not holosuite creations."

"You had no trouble telling fact from fiction yesterday. Why would this be any different?" Garak was a bit surprised.

"But yesterday _was_ different. There were lives at stake. It was real and, more than that, I could justify everything I did as necessary to maintain the patterns in the holosuite computer's memory. Today it seems a bit gratuitous."

Garak tried to sound soothing. "Just relax, Doctor, and allow yourself to enter into the spirit of things. When Falcon shows himself tonight, treat him accordingly and I'm sure you won't have any problems."

"I'll try," Julian said uncertainly, then stopped, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the restaurant. "Time to save the world, I think."

Garak twisted around to follow his companion's line of sight. There he was, and with two hired thugs behind him. He spotted them almost immediately and started weaving his way through the tables towards them.

"Try not to hurt him too much, will you? I hate to make a spectacle of myself."

Julian just smiled and winked.

O'Brien spotted the pair at the far end of the room and began to make his way towards them, carefully, as the eye patch distorted his depth perception. Of all the current co-conspirators, only he had ever actually read a James Bond book and he was certainly the closest culturally to the era and its people. And given the chance to take the mickey out of the station's fancifully heroic medical officer was something he just couldn't pass up. It wasn't that he disliked Bashir, really he didn't, there was just something about the man that begged this kind of abuse and O'Brien couldn't resist giving it to him. Drawing nearer, he pulled himself up and tried to look menacing. Okay, Miles, you're on.

"I've been looking for you."

Bashir gave him a cool look. "So I've heard." He indicated the chair next to him. "Please, sit down."

"Actually, I was more interested in having you stand up." He taped the bulge under his arm meaningfully. "We're leaving."

Bashir frowned and for a moment Miles thought he may have played it wrong, but then Julian nodded and motioned for Garak to keep his seat while he stood.

"If you insist." Suddenly O'Brien found himself doubled over Julian's knee, the doctor having taken him completely by surprise. He had no idea Julian could move that fast. Sinking slowly to the floor, he rolled over onto his side to watch the fight between 'his' hired toughs and Bashir.

Neatly sidestepping one, Julian chopped the other on the neck, then, placing his foot between the other's, shifted his weight abruptly and sent the man crashing to the floor. A kick to the midriff kept him there. He whirled, looking for the second thug, just in time to watch Garak finish him off. The Cardassian looked like he was having fun.

"Well! Isn't this exhilarating?"

Julian smiled in answer and, wrapping his dignity about him, motioned the waiter for the bill.

O'Brien remained on the floor and watched them leave, dumbfounded. Where had Julian learned to fight like that? He decided his character needed a little work.

* * *

Julian and Garak arrived at his Hong Kong flat after a short ten-minute cab ride. Tipping the driver generously, Julian led the way past the guard, nodding courteously in response to his respectful "'Evening, Mr Bashir," and continued through the lobby to the lift. It was only then, when they were alone in the compartment, that Garak turned to him in inquiry.

"What happens now?"

Julian shrugged. "I have no idea. If this program runs like the others we should be getting some plot elements soon, perhaps in my rooms."

They were met at the door by his valet, Mona Luvsitt, apparently resurrected from the dead. She smiled at him alluringly. Julian smiled back, then grinned at Garak.

"I do like this program."

Garak inclined his head appreciatively. "Yes, I can see why."

Mona led them into the living area, sashaying all the way, then turned to Julian. "There is someone waiting for you in the bedroom. Would you prefer to change out here. . . or with her?" Mona's expression revealed nothing.

"Oh, I think I can remain in these clothes for the time being. In the bedroom, you say?" He indicated the appropriate direction.

She nodded and disappeared towards the back.

Julian looked over at Garak and said, "Well, care to come with me? I daresay here comes Plot Element Number Two."

"If you're absolutely certain it won't cramp your style. I wouldn't want to 'rain on your parade,' as you put it."

Jadzia sat on Julian's bed and waited for him to come in. She was dressed in a severe skirt suit, wore large, owl-like glasses, and had her hair restrained in a tight bun, which at the moment was giving her a bit of a headache. She hoped he made her take it down. I wonder how long it'll take before he tries kissing me, she thought with a grin. It occurred to her to wonder whether she wanted him to or not. Voices in the outer room warned her and she just had time to school her expression appropriately before he came in.

"Professor Bare. What a pleasure it is to see you." He swept forward gracefully and kissed her hand. "And what brings you to my humble abode?" His smile was charming rather than lecherous and to her surprise Jadzia felt herself warming to it. She returned to her role with an effort.

"Oh, Mr Bashir. I need your help. Desperately!" With a theatrical gesture she fell back upon the bed, invitingly. Julian responded.

Sitting down next to her, he took her hand and patted it soothingly. "Now, my dear. Of course I'll help you. Just what is it that such a beautiful woman as yourself could possibly need assistance with?"

She tried to look worried. "It's that awful Dr Noah. He's after me to help him with his new plan to conquer the world and I won't do it!" She gazed deeply into his eyes. "You taught me how wrong he is to want to use my mind for his own evil schemes. How he can't appreciate me for who I really am." Her voice was dripping pure, well, honey.

Garak coughed surreptitiously by the doorway. She was overdoing it a bit. He ignored Julian's glare and continued pretending casual neutrality until Julian turned back to the woman whose hand he still held in his own.

"It was very brave of you to come here, Honey. I'm sure my government will be only too happy to offer you its protection, but we should leave for the embassy at once." He stood, drawing her up with him and smiled at Garak when she leaned into his shoulder as if for support. This program was turning out to be a pretty good idea after all.

He called into the next room for assistance. "Mona! Ring me a cab, will you? I'm going back out."

His only response was silence.

Julian glanced over to Garak to confirm his own suspicions: Plot Element Number Three.

Turning quickly to Jad-. . . Professor Bare, he motioned her to stay in the bedroom and remain quiet while he and his associate investigated the sudden silence in the outer room. She didn't look too happy about being left out, but made no move to follow when he and Garak approached the doorway. He slipped the semi-automatic from its holster under his arm and held it ready, indicating for Garak to take the right side while he covered the left. One, two, three. . .

Both men burst into the living area with deadly intent, Bashir with his weapon leveled, Garak adopting the Cardassian equivalent of a karate stance. It proved unnecessary; the room was empty. Too empty. Where was Mona? Slowly both he and Garak began to circle the apartment.

"Joolian, how nice to see you again." Julian spun in time to see Colonel Komononof enter from the open outer doorway, clothed in a stunning red dress which complemented her auburn hair beautifully, and holding a pistol centered on his chest.

Kira walked onto the scene somewhat precariously -- balancing in the ridiculous pointy-heeled shoes women of this era wore was much more difficult than it had at first appeared -- and watched with satisfaction as Julian dropped his gun and raised his hands slowly away from his body. Garak, too, raised his hands in surrender, but she ignored him.

"I do hope I haven't come at a bad time," she continued, walking around him lazily, which was actually the only way she could walk in this footwear. That and speaking Standard in what had to be the most outrageous accent she had ever heard was perhaps the most difficult part of her character. It had taken Garak over half an hour to teach it to her convincingly.

"Anna. . ." Bashir began cajolingly, lowering his hands and trying to move closer to her. "Is this really necessary? I thought our governments had an understanding." He continued pressing nearer. She stopped him with a look.

"I am afraid that was yesterday. Today we are yet again vying for the same prize." She pointed towards the bedroom door with the muzzle of her weapon. "She is in there?"

"I'm sorry." He looked anything but. "To whom are you referring?"

Good grief, Julian, how dumb do you think I am?

"Please, Joolian, don't insult my intelligence. You know I am looking for Professor Bare. Where is she?"

Bashir looked suddenly enlightened. "Ah, Professor Bare. Well yes, she was here, but I took her over to the British Embassy earlier this evening. I'm afraid you are too late, Anna." He smiled with an air of triumph. Kira wasn't fooled for a moment.

"I don't think so. In fact," she began her circling again, "I think she is in your bedroom, yes?" Not an unusual place to find most of the women in this program, I bet. She began to move towards the door.

"That's far enough," said a new voice from the open outer doorway Kira had forgotten to close behind her. All eyes turned to Falcon and the two heavies from whom he seemed inseparable. "You two aren't the only ones interested in Professor Bare. If you don't mind. . ." he gestured with his gun for them to stand in the corner.

"Get her," he said to one of the nameless thugs who immediately went into the bedroom and dragged a protesting Professor Bare from the room.

"Julian! Don't let them take me! I won't work for that man again."

Despite all reason Julian felt himself actually beginning to respond emotionally to Jadzia's plight, angry at the severe angle at which her arms were stretched behind her back and prodded by the pleading in her voice. Unconsciously he moved forward and there was no mistaking the seriousness of his expression.

"Let her go. Now."

Falcon turned and laughed at him. "Or what? I don't see any champagne bottles handy."

Julian stopped and consciously regained control of himself. Calm down, dolt. It's a just a program, for crying out loud. Now he could see why playing with people you knew was a bad idea; he couldn't believe how upset Falcon's treatment of Honey Bare made him. He knew he shouldn't have let Garak talk him into this.

Falcon laughed again and pushed Honey unceremoniously out into the hallway, provoking Bashir beyond his shaky self-control. In a moment he had launched himself across the room at the startled Irishman giving Garak little choice but to follow and forcing even Kira to get caught up in the ensuing brawl.

Under normal circumstances, Kira, Garak, and even Bashir would probably have had little trouble subduing their three adversaries, but it seemed the program had something different in mind. While Julian went for O'Brien, Kira and Garak took on the two holographic tough men and found them to be somewhat more than they could handle. Blows that should have felled, perhaps even killed, had little effect and it didn't take long for them to lose their individual scuffles. O'Brien had the harder task of knocking Bashir out without actually hurting him for if Julian woke up with a cracked head he'd know immediately something was wrong, at the very least that the holosuite safeties were off, and he'd terminate the program at once. Fortunately the conspirators had anticipated something like this and programmed the holosuite to render Bashir unconscious should he end up in a prolonged fight with any of them; it was just a matter of wrestling more than fighting until the program found the appropriate opening to apply the stun beam. Still, Miles took a couple of uncomfortable blows to the stomach waiting for that to happen. When Julian was finally lying peacefully on the floor with the others, he whoofed painfully and turned to Jadzia.

"Remind me not to threaten you in front of him again."

* * *

Gradually the intrepid trio regained their senses under circumstances both Bashir and Garak found vaguely familiar. This wasn't the first time this particular threesome had awakened together on a pair of notably ugly couches in a room decorated by the association for the judgmentally impaired. Garak gazed around him and groaned. Was there no end to this era's tastelessness? He got unsteadily to his feet.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

"Just us chickens." The Cardassian whirled to face O'Brien leaning against the wall, his thigh propped along a small side table, his hand holding a pistol casually. He grinned and winked at Garak before rearranging his expression into harder lines as Julian woke up more fully and began to look around.

"Are you all right?" he asked Garak.

The Cardassian nodded and gestured widely about the room. "Just how long did this garish period in your planet's history last?"

Julian smiled and shrugged. "I'm not sure, about ten years I think. We usually have spells like this every century or so. Just close your eyes."

The sound of their voices roused Kira more quickly and she sat up, blinking blearily. "What the hell is going on?"

Garak spoke promptly, both to cover Kira while she clued into things again and to distract Julian from her suddenly very un-Russian accent.

"We seem to be in yet another example of Earth's early struggle with interior decorating. Perhaps Mr Falcon would care to enlighten us?" All eyes turned to O'Brien.

Without missing a beat he improvised a line right out of the one James Bond book he'd actually read. "I'm not paid to _enlighten_ anyone. Just sit quietly until the big man gets here." He tried to look intimidating.

Julian was curious. "And just who is the 'big man'?"

O'Brien opened his mouth to tell Bashir to shut up again, something he'd always wanted to do, but never got the chance. A new voice off to their left preempted him.

"Hyppocritus Noah, at your service." The entire room turned to the wide archway leading from an outer chamber to gaze upon the 'big man.' Sisko smiled back at them broadly.

Captain Sisko gazed around the room with a vague feeling of guilt. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all, but it had been so easy to give in to Dax's suggestion that they put one over on the doctor to pay him back for his less than forthcoming explanation of what went on in the holosuite while Rom worked to beam them out of there. He'd made it sound so innocuous, a far cry from Garak's sensational account, that it was a simple decision to play along with the group. Looking at Bashir now, surrounded by conspirators and completely unaware, he couldn't help but think that perhaps they were going too far. Well, let's just see what happened.

"Mr Bashir, so nice to have you as my guest again."

"I wish I could say it was nice to be your guest again." The doctor was playing it cool, not that Sisko would have expected anything else; his understanding of James Bond was that he was the very definition of cool. "But then, it is customary to receive an invitation to the more exclusive clubs. Kidnapping is _so_ rude."

Sisko smiled sinisterly and spread his hands, careful of the lit cigar in the one. "Oh, but Mr Bashir, I can assure you this club is _most_ exclusive, most exclusive indeed. Please allow me to show you around our facilities. We are top of the line here."

Bashir wasn't interested in seeing the big man's facilities. "Where is Professor Bare?"

"You needn't concern yourself with her any longer. She has come to realize that helping me is in her own best interests." His smile, if anything, became even more malevolent.

Bashir drew himself up and gazed into Sisko's eyes with a directness that surprised his commander. Gone was the familiar gentleness of his medical officer's soft brown eyes, replaced by a hardness Sisko hadn't known his friend possessed. His tone was equally unforgiving. "I don't believe you. Bring her here. _Now_."

Sisko considered the man before him for a moment, then inclined his head in acquiescence. "Very well." He nodded at O'Brien who left to fetch her. "Since you are so adamant about it."

Once Falcon had left on his errand, Julian seemed to calm down a bit, entering slowly back into the spirit of the game. He wandered deliberately around the room, stopping here and there to examine an unusual object or read an inscription, waiting to see what would happen next. Kira decided to move things along.

"Why have you brought us here? And what nefarious scheme required the talents of one of the world's leading seismologists?" Her Russian accent was back and she was laying it on for all it was worth, so much so that she missed Julian's little smile. So did everyone else.

"I am _so_ glad you asked!" Sisko let himself go, launching into a stirring account of far-fetched ideas supporting world domination. This time, it appeared, he intended to induce an enormous earthquake directly beneath the UN building while the world body was in session, killing everyone there and plunging the world's governments into chaos. He proposed to capitalize on the ensuing violence by selling arms to anyone who would buy them, all sides, and wait to pick up the pieces of the shattered countries. He would almost certainly be able to attain enough territory to be a very powerful force indeed. Bashir was impressed and said as much.

"I'm glad you think so, Mr Bashir. But I'm afraid you won't be around to see it." It was then that Falcon came back with Honey.

"Oh Julian, I'm so sorry! I should never have come to you in the first place. Now he's going to kill you and it's all my fault!" She looked ready to burst into tears, impressing Julian yet again, but this time he hid it carefully. The melodrama was beginning to get to him.

He began to move across the room towards Honey Bare with the intention of taking her in his arms to comfort her, but came to an abrupt stop at Noah's sharp command and Falcon's looming presence. "That's far enough, Mr Bashir. Time to take care of a few loose ends, I think." He nodded to Falcon deliberately. "Three loose ends, to be precise."

As Falcon raised his gun threateningly, Julian turned to Noah in entreaty. "Surely it wouldn't hurt to allow me one last kiss from the woman I've risked my life to protect? One last thing before I die?" His voice sounded wistful and sad and fortunately no one noticed the slight undercurrent of amusement in it. Julian himself was hard pressed to remain straight-faced.

Noah appeared thoughtful for a moment, then nodded graciously. "No, I suppose it wouldn't. Very well, Mr Bashir, you may have your kiss, but make it a good one for it is most assuredly your last."

Julian walked over to Honey slowly, gently took her face in his hands, and gazed deeply into her eyes for a long moment. The chance to kiss this beautiful woman was something he'd been wanting for a long time and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. Carefully he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with all the fervor the last three years of denial had engendered in him, only withdrawing after fully exploring everything her mouth had to offer. He opened his eyes and noted with satisfaction her slight breathlessness and the flush gradually creeping up her cheeks. Her spots were almost black.

"If you're quite finished, Mr Bashir." Julian turned to find the entire room watching him in amazement. I suppose that was quite a show, he thought with a grin.

Falcon raised his gun again and leveled it threateningly between Julian's eyes, pausing to give him a chance to respond. He saw with surprise the complacency on Julian's face and frowned uncertainly. Sure, James Bond was a cool one but this didn't seem quite right. Shouldn't Julian be taking this more seriously?

Kira decided it was time for her to act since Julian seemed content to let Falcon kill him. She sidled up to Garak while the others' attention was diverted and whispered to him, "You go for Falcon, I'll get Noah." Garak nodded and both moved quietly into position behind their prospective targets while Julian watched them surreptitiously, wondering what they had in mind. He was not surprised when they launched their attack and observed with interest the ensuing demonstration of Bajoran, Cardassian, and Federation hand-to-hand combat techniques. He made no move to escape with Professor Bare during the melee nor attempted to help his friends against their common enemy. The fighting was intense, and impressive, but over in less than a minute, Bajoran and Cardassian styles having won out over Federation this time, leaving both Sisko and O'Brien standing by the side table rubbing various parts of their anatomy carefully and glaring ruefully at the sudden downturn in their fortunes. While focusing on the easily controlled doctor, both had forgotten the very real threat represented by the ex-spy and freedom fighter behind them.

Kira grabbed Falcon's pistol from the floor and gestured to Julian frantically. "Joolian! We must leave now! Bring Professor Bare and come quickly."

It was just too much. Slowly, and to the absolute confusion of everyone else present, Julian's face began to quiver, his eyes teared over, his mouth twitched uncontrollably, and he sank down into the nearest chair holding his sides and shaking silently. Kira was puzzled. Was he in pain?

"Joolian?"

She couldn't understand why he doubled over and fell off the chair in front of her, rolling to a stop at her feet and gasping for air through his laughter, though she did experience the sudden urge to kick him. What the hell was he doing?

"Oh God." He wiped his eyes and sat up slowly, breathing heavily and trying to regain his composure. "How ever did you manage to learn that atrocious accent, Major?"

* * *

Everyone froze for a moment, then Sisko spoke for all of them. "How did you know?"

Still chuckling a little, he pulled himself into the chair he'd just fallen out of and answered them. "Actually, I've been thinking there was something fishy about all this since we started, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it." He looked over at Kira. "It wasn't until 'Colonel Komononof' woke up with a very Major Kira-like expletive that I finally figured it out. Made me pretty angry at first, but then I thought, 'Hey, I've got a real opportunity here,'" and he glanced at Jadzia meaningfully. "All in all, I'd say it was worth it." He winked at her and she laughed.

"You're lucky we were the ones who instigated this or I'd be pretty upset right now." She shook a finger at him remonstratingly.

"Ha. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't enjoy it."

Jadzia just grinned at him and said nothing.

"You brought this on yourself, you know." Sisko tried to sound sober but it didn't come out that way; everyone had had too much fun. "You should have told us what really happened while you were fooling around with our patterns."

Julian shrugged. "It just didn't seem important. That, and I didn't want Kira to kill me." Kira returned his good-natured smile. "Exactly how _did_ you find out what happened in my program anyway?"

All eyes turned to Garak, who tried to look innocent and for once failed miserably.

"Garak?" The first hint of genuine annoyance reddened Julian's tone. "Why did you tell them?"

The Cardassian said nothing for a moment, then gave Julian a level and quite serious stare. "Do you really want to know, Doctor? Shall I tell you why I set you up for this?"

No one said anything, realizing this was an unresolved issue between the two of them. Julian simply returned Garak's gaze and waited for him to continue.

"I was angry. And possibly just a little hurt and disappointed." How unusually direct of him; he had everyone's undivided attention. "I have a question for you, Julian, and I want a completely honest answer." He looked away momentarily as if collecting himself, then turned back to the Human still sitting in the chair. "When you shot me yesterday, where you aiming to kill?"

All eyes swiveled to hear his answer, like spectators at a tennis match. He stood and confronted Garak eye-to-eye. What he said next would determine the course of their entire relationship, perhaps even end it, and Julian wanted to be sure Garak understood.

"Yes."

Garak merely blinked and waited for the doctor to explain himself. Nor was he the only one.

"I was trying to kill you, Garak, because I don't know how to shoot someone unconscious with a projectile weapon. If I'd simply wounded you, you would have had even more incentive to open the doors and try to get help. I warned you, but you didn't listen. I made it very clear I would shoot, but you didn't stop." Julian felt himself growing angry. How dare Garak place him in that position? "Your actions threatened the lives of people who are tremendously important to me. Don't blame me that you misjudged my ability to defend them."

Garak thought about his answer for almost a minute, then nodded and left the holosuite without a word, leaving the exit open behind him.

Julian looked uncertainly at the others. "Do you think he'll still have lunch with me?"

Jadzia moved to his side, put an arm around his shoulders, and smiled reassuringly. "Oh, I think so. Just give him a little time. He's just not used to having anyone this close to him and he's finding it a bit scary. He wouldn't be nearly this upset if you weren't important to him."

He smiled back. "Whatever you say, Professor." Then he raised his eyebrows and half-grinned at her. "Or may I call you Honey?"

"You may call me Jadzia, and I believe you still owe me dinner."

He considered for a moment, then brightened. "I know just the place. A marvelous restaurant in downtown Kowloon. . ."

The End

December 1995


End file.
